Vergilius eBook

“You have, indeed, been dreaming,” said
the other. “But, Vergilius, there is one
higher than I who shall choose her husband—­the
imperator. Does he know you?”

“I have met him, of course, but do much fear
he would not remember me.”

“We may know shortly. Every seventh day
this year he has sat, like a beggar, at his gate asking
for alms. To-day we shall see him there.”

“It is an odd whim.”

“Hush! you know the people as well as I, and
he must please them,” the other whispered.
“He must conceal his power if he would live
out his time. I will present you, and perhaps
he may be gracious—­ay, may even bid you
to his banquet.”

“A modest home,” said young Vergilius.

Now they were nearing the palace of that mild and
quiet gentleman whose name and title—­Gaius
Julius Caesar Octavianus Augustus—­had terrified
the world; whose delicate hands flung the levin of
his power to the far boundaries of India and upper
Gaul, to the distant shores of Spain and Africa, and
into deserts beyond the Euphrates.

“Many a poor patrician has better furniture
and more servants and a nobler palace,” said
Appius. “Rather plain wood, divans out
of fashion, rugs o’erworn; but you have seen
them. He alone can afford that kind of thing.”

“He has a fondness for old things.”

“But not for old women, my dear fellow.”

“Indeed! And he is himself sixty-one.”

“Hist—­the imperator! There,
by the gate yonder.”

An erect figure of a man rather above medium height,
in a coarse, gray toga, stood by one of the white
columns. Three Moorish children were playing
about his knees, and a senator was talking with him.

“My public services are familiar to you,”
said the senator, as the young knights waited some
twenty paces off. “A gift of two hundred
thousand denarii would be fitting, and, if you will
permit me to say so, it would delight the populace.
Indeed, ’tis generally believed you have already
given me a large sum.”

“But see that you do not believe it,”
blandly spake the strange emperor, for albeit Rome
was then a republic in name it was an empire in fact,
and Augustus, wielding the power of an emperor, refused
the title. Turning, he began to play with the
children.

“Great and beloved father! I hope, at
least, you will consider my prayer.”

“Good senator, I have considered. You
ask for two hundred thousand denarii. I can
give you only the opportunity of earning them.
As to myself, I am poor. Look at me.
Even my time belongs to the people. and it is passing,
my dear senator—­it is passing.”

The importunate man saw the subtle meaning in these
words and went his way.

The emperor sat down, a child upon each knee, as the
young men approached him. His head was bare
and his fair, curly locks, growing low upon his forehead,
were now touched with gray. He looked up at the
two, his eyes blue, brilliant, piercing.